Rolling Out
by Thuktun Flishithy
Summary: There are more than just one kind of boat in the Graveyard. Beneath it, hidden from human eyes, an alien vessel has lain since before mankind even learned to bang rocks together. When one of those aboard awakens to a strange world, it encounters a certain Taylor Hebert on her second night out. Crossover with Transformers G1, and a slight AU.
1. Chapter 1

_Stasis lock disengaged. Nanite level optimal. Chassis erosion negligible. Spark activity returning._

Its optics activated for the first time in aeons. The chamber of the Ark was dark, almost impossible to discern; the vessel itself had yet to reactivate. Why was that, again? It tried to remember, mind still groggy from the hibernation period. The war, the damage to the Bridge, the evacuation... but what else? What was it missing?

Moving a limb, it realized that the chamber had flooded with a fluid, transparent to many wavelengths. A cursory analysis revealed that it was water, laced with particulates from the surrounding rock and soil.

That gave it pause. Water was an alien substance, found nowhere back home; why was it submerged in the fluid?

Suddenly, it remembered. They'd crashed here, on this bizarre planet, when the Nemesis had attacked and boarded them. There'd been a struggle, an accidental change in trajectory, and now they were here. If its subconscious readings were accurate, four million of this odd planet's local revolutions had passed since the crash.

Had the others awakened, too?

It needed to find out. It could feel life returning to the rest of its body, its spark reactivating unused gears and other components. Nanites flooded along their channels, repairing whatever slight damage had occurred during the hibernation period, and it twitched its limbs tentatively, testing their hydraulics.

Satisfied, it began to move. The Ark had tilted during the aeons, and so it took care not to slide all the way down to the aft of the vessel as it climbed up. Optics scanning the chamber, it located its comrades- and its enemies. All were still in stasis lock; upon approaching one, it saw that the chassis had become severely damaged over time.

They were all severely damaged, it found. Nominally, they would've woken once there was a way to escape their prison, but now they had to stay in lock, or they would perish.

It, too, was starved for energy. It needed to get to the surface and replenish its own reserves before it could focus on trying to rejuvenate its comrades.

And so, it continued climbing up, its movements sluggish in the water. The Ark's fore was close to the surface; it could see a beam of light shining through a crack in the rocks above. As if tantalized by the thought, it already set about to converting part of its exterior to solar collectors, directing the nanites to the task.

It finally reached the fore of the Ark and swung a fist against the rocks. It was weakened by the time in hibernation; the crack barely widened, shaking some soil loose and onto its head. After two more strikes, however, it finally broke through, and more light came through. It took it in greedily through the collectors, letting it replenish its depleted well.

After a short time passed, it fully emerged from the ground and studied its surroundings, shaking the last bits of soil off its massive frame. It was standing on a sandy shore, close to the water. The planet's bright star was low on the horizon, reflecting light over the vast ocean that covered most of the surface, and puffy clouds of water vapor were moving in from over the horizon.

That wasn't what caught its attention, however.

Scattered around the area were massive vessels, their exteriors badly eroded. Two and two were put together, and it quickly reached the conclusion that these had been used to traverse the ocean, before being abandoned.

But by whom? The designs were not like those of its own people, and the materials were incredibly low-grade, if the scans meant anything. Had this world developed its own intelligent species during all those millions of years?

It turned around, and saw that there was a large settlement nearby, composed of a multitude of structures of varying sizes, all made from glass and metal and concrete. The structures were nothing like those on its own world. They were too small, for one; it'd be hard pressed to fit into all but the largest of them. Their architectural styles were alien, too, with too much emphasis on blockiness.

So this world had natives, then.

It'd need to avoid their attention while it gathered the necessary energy to rejuvenate its comrades and restore the Ark. But to plan for anything about them, it needed to understand them.

It listened in to the faint radio buzz emanating from the settlement, but couldn't discern anything. It'd need to access some of their technology, first.

With that in mind, it warily approached the settlement. Its feet sank deep in the sandy ground, but eventually the soil hardened as it drew nearer. Eventually, it could see what appeared to be a road in the distance. There was a rapid oxidation occurring in one of nearby structures, and there were vehicles of some sort arriving at the scene. It watched as they stopped at the burning structure, and waited.

It was then that it saw the natives for the first time. They were small, barely the height of its shin, though their overall shape was uncannily similar to its own: two locomotive limbs, and two manipulating ones. They moved quickly, spraying the structure with water from one of the vehicles, and the oxidation ceased for the most part.

It scanned the vehicle in question, analyzing the technology within. It directed its nanites, preparing its metamorphic abilities as it shaped its frame. Its exterior rapidly changed texture and color, and produced superfluous features. Inside, it prepared moving parts as to better aid the metamorphic process, while avoiding changing its vital functions.

If it wanted to avoid detection, it needed camouflage.

At the same time, it also scanned a nearby comm device, and incorporated part of its design into its receivers, so it could access their means of communication. At last, it could tune into their information relays, and was stunned by the sheer volume of data they produced. It set to work on deciphering it, picking up the important things.

Earth. Humans. Parahumans.

The planet's star - _sun_ \- had disappeared beneath the horizon by the time it was finished the process. No-one noticed the vehicle - _fire truck_ \- driving back into the Boat Graveyard.

* * *

 **I**

* * *

When morning came again, it'd completed its research into the world, and was shocked at the results.

Humans with abilities far beyond those of their kin, abilities they could not explain. Monsters that shattered islands and crumbled cities. The ever-looming threat of societal collapse.

The human world was a strange one, rife with conflict. And yet, there was still good in it, or it would have never reached its current point. They were an intriguing people, and it found itself engrossed by them.

It stared over at what it now knew was called Brockton Bay, and pondered while the sunlight helped recharge its reserves. It'd retrieved its comrades from the Ark, but sunlight was too meager of a power source to reverse the damage. It'd need to find a more potent method: there were several, if the internet was even slightly accurate, but accessing them was easier said than done.

Funny. It was already picking up their colloquialisms.

It focused once more on the matter at hand. When the sun had set again, it assumed the form of the fire-truck, and began to drive down to the city. Hopefully, it could access one of their power-stations. If not, reconnaissance still had its uses. The humans guarded their power sources, for many of them were outright lethal if not handled properly.

Adjusting to human traffic was troublesome. Many human drivers didn't seem to follow the rules and regulations they'd set up for their own safety. More than a few honked at him as he awkwardly moved through the streets, scanning power stations and generators as it passed them by.

That was when it noticed the fire on its infrared scanners.

Stopping at the streetlight, it studied the source on multiple wavelengths, traced the smoke in the air. It was coming from a more rundown section of the city, and was anything but natural.

A parahuman.

It pulled up the databases it'd studied. If the research was accurate, then the parahuman had to be the one they called "Lung", known for his pyrokinesis and monstrous strength. A killer of his own kind, deemed an enemy of the city.

A familiar kind of enemy, unfortunately.

As it studied it further, it realized there was another human nearby, infrared signature hard to discern amongst the flames. Based on the size, it was most likely an adolescent female. She was running from Lung, but not fast enough.

It paused, thinking. Avoiding detection was of utmost importance, but to let a child die when the death could be prevented was unconscionable.

Freedom was the right of all sentient beings.

With that thought, it revved its engine, and rolled out.

* * *

 **T**

* * *

I didn't imagine that my second night out as a cape would end with me horribly dying in a fire.

Well, that was kind of a lie. I'd _thought_ about it, sure, but I never seriously considered it. I was trying to fly under the radar for the time being, just apprehending the occasional mugger or robber. How would that entail getting in a fight with the most powerful villain in the city?

Clearly, luck wasn't on my side.

I spread my swarm out, feeling for escape routes. There were a few paths open to me, but Lung's flames were spreading, and he was getting closer. I'd already lost most of my bugs in his initial blast, which limited surveillance for now. No that I really needed it, when the fire was enough of an indicator of where _not_ to be.

For the hundredth time, I was glad I'd taken up running before heading out, otherwise Lung would've caught me already. That being said, I was still a fifteen-year-old girl, and he was a twelve-foot-tall dragon man with a three meter stride.

I ducked into an alleyway, taking a short cut in time to avoid a blast of flame. By the time Lung had reached the entrance, I was already on another street, still hoofing it. I began to breathe a bit easier; there was now a bit of distance between him and me. Despite myself, I even started thinking I could actually make it.

Until he leapt onto the roof of the two-story building, and jumped down right near me.

Luck _really_ wasn't on my side.

The tip of a claw caught me in the flank, and I went spinning, the wind getting knocked out of my lungs when I landed. My entire side throbbed with pain, but I knew it would've been far worse without my spider-silk suit. Still, I could hardly move, let alone stand. I managed to turn on my back to see Lung glaring at me, his draconian teeth bared in a macabre grin.

"Bug girl," he growled, his voice an inhuman rumble.

The fact that he hadn't incinerated me yet was proof he was going for a more "limb-ripping-off" manner of death. I'd seem some pictures of it, when I was starting my research, and immediately regretted the decision.

I reached for the pepper-spray in my belt, only to realize it had somehow been knocked loose. Feeling out with my bugs, I realized it was a few feet away. I set some spiders and beetles on rolling it over, but that wouldn't be quick enough. Delaying him by talking wouldn't work, so I simply stared at him, futilely flinging my remaining bugs at him as he stepped forward.

I was going to die here. Mom was going to read about me in the paper next morning, and see her little girl's mangled corpse on the front page. Emma and the others were probably going to joke with themselves about it, too. Dumb loser Taylor Hebert, eaten by a dragon.

It was then that a pair of headlights shone on the road, and I heard the sound of an engine.

Before I knew what was going on, a fire-truck was suddenly where Lung had been a moment ago, door flung wide open. I managed to hop to my feet, still in a daze about what'd just happened.

"Get in!" a voice barked.

I did as told, hopping inside. The door slammed shut of its own volition, and I vaguely realized I was actually in the _driver's_ seat, not the passenger side.

Then who'd told me to get in?

There wasn't time to think about that. A good thirty feet away, Lung was getting back up, wounds already healing, flesh knitting back together. His power went to work, making him even taller than before. He stared my way, flames dancing around his body, and _exploded_. Flames washed against the windshield, but seemed to do nothing other than warm up the cabin a little.

"Hold on," the voice said.

The truck backed up, then sped forward again. Lung had the good sense to step to the side in time to avoid getting hit again, and tried to swipe at the side. The truck shifted, and Lung was slammed into a nearby wall with enough force to smash right through it.

By the time he was back up, we were too far away.

The truck weaved in and out of traffic, blaring its siren to clear a path. Downtown and the Docks were getting further away, and I realized we were heading towards the Boat Graveyard.

Was that were the controller of the truck was? Was I getting kidnapped by some sort of tinker? Or was it genuinely a rescue mission?

Well, I wouldn't find out by staying silent.

"Uh..." I finally managed to say. "Who's driving?"

"I am," came the reply.

Well, that certainly answered things.

It did offer some information, though. Whoever was speaking, it was definitely a man, with a deep and gravelly voice. He sounded like he could be a voice actor; hell, with a growl like that, he could probably play a _gorilla_.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere safe."

Why was he being so cryptic? That made me worried; a hero wouldn't have to hide things, would he?

There were still some bugs on me. I had them try and squeeze into the interior of the car, searching for anything delicate. If I was lucky, I could have them chew some wires and break _something,_ if I needed to.

Huh. No wires. This definitely wasn't a normal fire truck.

Eventually, we arrived in the Boat Graveyard, and the door swung open again. Tentatively, I stepped out, feet sticking slightly in the muddy sand. For half a second, I was tempted to run, but common sense prevailed; there was no way I was outrunning _that_.

"Remain calm," the voice said again.

I frowned. Just what could that mea-

Before my eyes, the truck _got up_. It was hard to make out in the dark, but I could see gears and other parts shifting as it began to shift its form. The front of the truck became the 'chest' roughly speaking, and the sides became arms, with hands big enough to hold me in. It rose up, and its form became more humanoid looking as it finished the last parts of its transformation.

In a matter of seconds, there was a thirty-foot-tall robot looking down at me, blue eyes glowing softly in the dark. It almost reminded me of that villain I'd read about, called Trainwreck. Well, if Trainwreck was fully robotic, sleeker, looked more like a fire truck, and was the size of an Endbringer.

"Do not be alarmed, child," it said, mouth hidden by some metal plate that moved with its words.

"Who..." I absentmindedly licked my lips. "Who are you?"

The robot paused, as if thinking it over. Then, finally, it spoke again.

"My name," it said, "is Optimus Prime."


	2. Chapter 2

_Click._

 _"Another wonderful spring morning in Brockton Bay, ladies and gentlemen! High of 63, with a possible slight shower in the afternoon-_ "

I slapped a limp hand over the snooze button, and simply laid there for a few minutes, refusing to leave my warm and comfortable bed. After all, why should I? Bed was good. Outside bad. Outside had giant alien robots asking for my help.

Oh yeah, that.

Reluctantly, I sat upright in bed, rubbing a hand over my face. Then I just stared at the wall for a few minutes, as if hoping that would make it any less real.

In my sleep-addled mind, I was hoping that it was just a surreal dream, that I'd just had a close call with Lung and made up everything else when I'd tucked in for the night. It was certainly better than acknowledging that the events of last night were true, because therein lay madness.

A few moments passed, and I groaned to myself. It wasn't a dream, even if I wanted it to be the case; the memories were too clear, too vivid. Even now I could recall the conversation we'd had.

* * *

 **T**

* * *

 _"W-what?" I'd asked, mouth suddenly feeling dry. "What are you?"_

 _Optimus stared down at me for a moment, as if thinking of a response. There was no gaging the emotion behind those alien eyes, glowing a soft blue. No twitches, no slight eye movements that could give me even a_ clue _. His face was completely unreadable, and that made me more nervous than I cared to admit._

 _"I am an autonomous robotic organism from the planet Cybertron," he finally replied. "A world far from this one."_

 _For a few moments, I simply stared, not processing the revelation he'd just dropped on me. In that instant, as I slowly grasped the meaning of his words, I felt_ small. _Not just because he was more than five times my height... I felt tiny in every sense of the word. It was like the sky had cracked open and shown me just how much bigger than my own little world it was._

 _"You're... you're an_ alien _?" I finally managed to ask. "As in, something from outer space?"_

 _"Yes," he replied bluntly._

* * *

 **T**

* * *

I finally got out of bed, and padded over to the bathroom. While I brushed my teeth, I studied my face in the mirror, checking for anything that might prompt a question out of Mom. Cuts, bruises, scrapes, any signs that I'd been out for the night. Thankfully, aside from some bags under my eyes, I was unscathed.

Well, at least I was physically unscathed. Looking down at my hand, I realized it was actually trembling slightly, like someone who'd been out in the cold for too long. I clenched it into a fist, and took a deep breath. I could keep a handle on it, at least until Mom left for work.

Pulling on my sweatshirt, I headed downstairs. Mom was there, reading the newspaper as she nibbled on some toast. She glanced my way as I walked over to the fridge for some milk.

"Morning, hon."

"Morning," I mumbled back.

"Did you sleep well? You look exhausted, sweetie."

I poured myself some cereal, and sat down at the table. "Just a bit tired. I was up doing some studying for the algebra test on Monday."

Mom pursed her lips, in that familiar ' _reaaaally_ ' look, but didn't comment. I breathed an inward sigh of relief, and started eating my cereal.

"So, how's school going? Grades still holding up?"

I nodded, mouth full. Mom frowned a little, and chewed absentmindedly on her toast as she read the paper. I glanced at the headlines, seeing if there was anything related last night, then continued eating when I saw there wasn't.

"I know a mid-year transfer can be tough, honey," Mom continued. "I certainly thought so, back when I was just a year old than you. Adjusting to even little things can be difficult."

"I'm managing," I replied.

"Doing anything while I'm gone? I used to do tons of stuff on Saturdays. Movies, sleepovers, dates... made any new friends?"

 _I wouldn't call him a friend_ , I thought.

"I'll probably head to the library later," I said.

Mom sighed. "You do that every Saturday. Why not try something new? Come out of your shell a little, sweetie, explore new opportunities and all that good jazz."

I closed my eyes. "Please, not this conversation again."

"Yes, this conversation again. For goodness sakes, you've been in this routine for nearly two months now, and I'm just worried for you, hon. I know... I know that something like that can be hard, but it's not going to get better if you don't do something."

 _I am trying something,_ _Mom_ , I thought to myself, _but you wouldn't like it. Would you really want to hear me say, "Oh, I've been fighting crime for two days as a wannabe hero, and get this: I just met a thirty-foot tall alien robot that can transform into a fire truck! Isn't making first contact a way to get out of my shell, Mom?"_

Of course, I didn't say that. I didn't say anything, actually; I just looked down and focused on my cereal. I heard Mom sigh, then get up from her chair.

"I gotta go, sweetie." She kissed me on the forehead, squeezing my shoulder. "I'm sorry for upsetting you. Let's try to forget this when I get back and have some fun, okay?"

"Okay," I said. "Love you, Mom. Bye."

"Bye, hon."

I waited until she left the house and pulled out of the driveway to get up. I finished the last dregs of my cereal, then put the bowl in the sink. I considered just going on a run to try and ease the tension a little, but there was stuff I needed to do.

With that in mind, I headed outside, taking a deep breath. The sun was already out, shining brightly, and the sight of it brought my mind back to last night, in the Boat Graveyard.

 _"Cybertron is not a typical planet,_ _" Optimus Prime had said. A hologram coalesced in front of me, glittering blue as I saw something enclose around a bright light. "It is what your people call a Dyson Sphere, an object that envelops a star to collect all of its energy, though it was far from complete when I left."_

I tried to imagine something like that, closing around our own sun, and I realized just how terrifying the scale was.

I dismissed the thought from my mind, and started walking to the library.

* * *

 **T**

* * *

The Central Library was one of the nicer places in Brockton Bay. High ceiling supported by pillars, artworks on the wall, nice furniture... it felt as much like an art gallery as a library.

There were a few free computers on the second floor, and I plopped down in front of a relatively secluded one. Cracking my knuckles, I set about typing, ready to do some research.

I went on PHO first, to see if there was any mention of the incident. Despite what some liked to say about the site, it was actually pretty good for keeping up with cape-related news, especially compared to TV. I checked the Brockton Bay forum, seeing if there was any mention of Lung fighting a bug girl or getting hit by a firetruck.

There was nothing about the incident yesterday. Hell, there was only a single thread about me, and not a very big one. Not surprising, considering that'd I'd only been out for two days and apprehended a few muggers, but it was still a little humbling. Superpowers didn't immediately make you a celebrity, not in this day and age.

That wasn't to say there weren't some things that'd rock our little world. Speaking of...

I thought for a few moments, considering what I'd research. I hadn't ruled out the possibility of just some self-aware piece of tinkertech, or a remote-controlled drone giving me an elaborate lie of a backstory, but there was no harm in being sure.

I first searched for _Optimus Prime._

No results, save for some Latin translators. I frowned, then searched for _Cybertron._ Same as before, even when I looked it up in various spellings. I decided to look up Dyson Spheres, and was surprised to find out they were actual concepts made by a few scientists, with some variations. I looked up each one, trying to see if there was anything that could even be a slight lead, but I found nothing.

Well, at least I had some new books for my reading list.

I decided to shy away from the names Optimus had used for the time being, and tried more mundane search terms. I got a few pings for tinkers that made large machines, but none of them matched the towering robot I'd seen. Dragon was the closest, but her suits were definitely not in that aesthetic, and none of them could turn into firetrucks, as far as I knew.

Sighing, I went back to the more alien terms I'd heard. Even if I found nothing, the _absence_ would be telling enough.

 _Autonomous robotic organisms_ got me nothing. _Metal aliens_ produced some articles about hypothetical silicon-based life, but I could tell that Optimus didn't meet that description. _Robot aliens_ also got me nothing.

I thought back to last night, recalling some of the terms he'd thrown around in our rather short conversation.

 _"-the war raged for millions of your years, until I gathered our best and brightest in an attempt to find either a potential new home, or allies in the fight." The hologram showed a battlefield, unparalleled in its intensity, and a massive spaceship flying upwards. "As we entered your stellar cluster, we were boarded..._ "

Hesitantly, I typed out _Decepticon._

Nothing.

There was no way a tinker of that scale could stay under the radar like that, not in this world. There would've been _rumors,_ at the very least. Missing supplies, junkyard raids, reports of strange sounds coming from warehouses, the like. Which meant...

It had to be true.

I slumped back in my chair, mouth hanging open. All at the same time, I felt giddy, hopeful, awestruck, and terrified to the core.

Aliens existed. Not only that, but they were a Type III civilization, so much more advanced than us it wasn't even funny; so different on a biological level that it was absurd.

I couldn't believe. I, Taylor Hebert, was the first person _ever_ to meet an alien. If this got out, I'd go down in history books for centuries as the one who made first contact, a position many would be willing to kill for.

And the aliens needed my help.

That still baffled me. What the hell could I do to help them? I wasn't a scientist, or even a mechanic. I had powers, sure, but they were plenty of capes more powerful than me. If anyone could help them, it'd be Eidolon, or Alexandria. Not a fifteen-year-old girl that could control bugs.

And yet, here I was.

The trembling was returning. I clenched my fists tightly, until my nails threatened to cut my palms, and I began to breathe in and out, in and out. There was no need to panic, not over this. If I could keep it cool when Lung was bearing down on me, then I could handle this.

A ping on the screen told me I'd gotten a message on my PHO account. Exhaling, I opened it up. It was probably someone I'd gotten in an argument about on the VS forums, but I might as well just check it while I was here.

 **To:** thebert  
 **From:** optimusprime

 **Subject:** Meeting

Dear thebert,

I wish to begin discussing how you could assist me with my situation.

Sincerely,  
Your acquaintance

Vaguely, I recalled hearing Optimus say that he'd learnt English via the net. It seemed he'd figured out how to do more than passively gather information, though he still didn't seem to know the difference between email and regular mail. Who the hell began a PM with _Dear_?

Another thought struck me. He'd figured out my identity in less than twelve hours. I had him drop me off a few blocks from home, but I guess that was enough to pinpoint my location and do the rest.

Was there malice behind that, or just ignorance? He was from another star system, after all; I wouldn't be surprised if cape politics largely flew over his tin head. Or, it was possible he simply didn't care about the rules set up by some above-average individuals, in a galactic backwater of a civilization younger than he was.

With shaky fingers, I typed out a reply.

 **To:** optimusprime  
 **From:** thebert

 **Subject:** Re: Meeting

When can we start? Can we do this over the PM system?

 **To:** thebert  
 **From:** optimusprime

 **Subject:** Re: Meeting

Dear thebert,

We can start now. I am waiting for you outside the library.

Sincerely,  
Your acquaintance

I slowly got up, searching the outside with my bugs, like a million little fingertips. There were a few cars parked outside, and an eighteen-wheeler, but no firetruck. Was he parked elsewhere? Or would he swing by to pick me up?

I almost considered just booking it, but I quickly dismissed that. If he wanted to hurt me, he could've let Lung rip my limbs off.

Grabbing my backpack, I walked downstairs and hurried outside, scanning my surroundings. There was no sign of a firetruck nearby, or even a few blocks down, if my bugs were giving me valid information. So where could he be?

Then, right next to me, I saw the door of the eighteen-wheeler open up.

"Hop in," Optimus said.

I swallowed dryly, then got into the passenger seat. Before I could grab the handle, he shut the door on his own, and started driving, heading towards the Graveyard.

 _Well,_ I thought to myself, _there's no turning back._


	3. Chapter 3

Optimus had been fairly busy since we'd last met. He'd cobbled together a makeshift shelter from some metal plates he'd scavenged off a few abandoned ships, and I could see the silhouettes of his crew in there, laying dormant. I supposed it was a good idea; it wouldn't do any good if someone accidentally came across a few comatose alien robots.

I swear, I still got a bit of cognitive dissonance just by thinking about that.

We rolled to a stop, and Optimus opened the door, allowing me to step out. Once I was a few feet away, he began to transform, parts shifting around as he stood up. I still found myself staring at the sight, in awe of the process.

"Thank you for coming here, Taylor," he said. "I know that it must be difficult for you to process all of what I have told you thus far, but you have managed well."

I fidgeted a little. "T-thanks. So... why _am_ I here? You said that I could help you, but how?"

"Follow me," Optimus said.

He turned and walked towards the shelter, leaving massive footprints in the sand. I jogged after him, taking care not to fall into the depressions he made. Once he was at the entrance to the shelter, he gestured for me to step inside first, and I did after a moment's hesitation. It felt like I was walking into a tomb, especially considering how mangled the crew looked.

I watched as Optimus stooped inside the shelter and knelt by the smallest of his crewmembers, one that had silver armor. Extending a hand, he hovered it over the machine's chest, and I watched a spark fly from his fingertip.

For a moment, the alien shuddered, and I could've sworn I saw its eyes flicker. But as quickly as it came, it went back to being comatose.

"The driving force of my civilization- and its struggles," Optimus said. "By the standards of your people, we operate on tremendous amounts of energy; without it, we enter this state of stasis. My crew was badly damaged in the battle aboard the Ark and the subsequent crash onto your world, and if they were to exit stasis, they would perish. In order to resuscitate them, I require energy."

"And this is where I come in?" I asked, brow furrowed. "I don't see how I could help you resuscitate your crew. I can control bugs, and get some sensory input from them, but that's not going to help much here."

"That may be," said Optimus, "but there is more to you than just your powers. You, as a native of this world, are far more familiar with its workings, its nuances. If I were to attempt to collect the energy now, without any information, I would undoubtedly get the attention of your governments."

I blinked. "So... you basically want me to be your guide."

"Yes. And in the case that I must steal energy, someone who could ensure that I succeed without detection."

He wanted me to be an accomplice to theft? I was trying -keyword there- to be a hero, and stealing didn't exactly fit the bill. Especially considering what he meant by 'tremendous' amounts of energy... what kind of trouble could that wreak on the city?

"Optimus, I don't want to be a crook," I finally replied.

"Though I understand there are some legal issues with our acts, I do not believe there are moral ones. I will not harm your kind for energy, nor will I put them at risk."

"It's still making me a bit uneasy. Can't you, I don't know, just use solar panels, like what you have on your shoulders?"

"I have already placed an order for three hundred panels from various sellers."

My brow furrowed. "You're a thirty-foot-tall robot. How did you order solar panels?"

"Ebay."

"Oh," I said simply. "Well, I guess that makes sense. Did you just artificially give yourself a bank account?"

"Several."

I nodded to myself. "Okay, that's good. What else can we do to get power? Could you use your ship's batteries or something?"

"The Ark derived power from Cybertron itself, via the Space Bridge," Optimus replied, as if that made any sense to me. "The mechanisms required for that were damaged in the crash, and the internal power storage has been depleted; I cannot even activate Teletraan I, the Ark's central computer."

"Then maybe we could pull the ship out of the ground a little, let it get some sunlight so it can start fixing itself." I felt silly saying it, but I didn't know exactly how to respond in this situation. "That's how you're moving around, right?"

"Yes," Optimus admitted. "However, the Ark is far to large to move in such a manner."

"How big is it?" I asked.

In response, Optimus produced a hologram. It took me a moment, but I realized it was a rough bird's-eye map of Brockton Bay, along with the surrounding area. I could see a red dot on the beach, right where we were. Was that the Ark?

Then, the dot turned into an outline, and my eyes widened as it continued to stretch out in a rough oval shape. I'd imagined his spaceship had to be big, just to fit individuals of that size, but...

"Are you telling me," I said slowly, measuring each word, "that your ship is bigger than Brockton Bay? And that it's been directly underneath the city all this time?"

Optimus nodded. "There lies the other problem. I do not see a way of extricating the Ark without demolishing Brockton Bay in the process. Perhaps one of your planet's parahumans could assist us in that endeavor, but I do not wish to reveal the existence of my people to yours."

I scratched the back of my head, thinking, then stopped.

"Then why did you reveal yourself to me?"

Optimus was silent for a few moments. Then he knelt down, so he could better look me in the eye.

"Because freedom is the right of all sentient beings, Taylor. Freedom from tyranny, oppression, pain, and murder. Freedom to live, love, think, and create. Lung would have taken that right from you, and I would have been complicit in his crime if I had done nothing."

That hit me harder than it should've. The idea that this alien, this being older than humanity, would risk revealing himself to the world and jeopardizing his plans just to save a nobody like me? Any doubts that his faction were the bad guys went out the window, and that got me thinking.

"I'm not the only one he would have done that to," I said. "Or even the first he's killed. You've probably read about his gang, and the other gangs. They all kill people, and ruin innocent lives. I've known a few kids in my school that have become druggies because of the Merchants, or join the E88 and start picking on kids of other races. I once even saw a knife-fight in the hallways between two kids that were in different gangs."

I sighed. "That's why I want to be a hero, I guess. I want to at least do _something_ about all the ugliness, even if I could only do a little."

"I did not know that the violence permeated everyday life in such a manner, where even the children fight," Optimus said, as if in thought. "I am fortunate to have found you, Taylor; you offer more than mere objective collections of fact, but a lens into your world."

He stood back up, staring at the skyline in the distance. "Our worlds are more similar than I may care to admit. The war between us and the Decepticons consumed our planet, turning all to the sword, whether they wanted to or not. I see it here, with the formation of factions that fight each other for petty gain, uncaring of the lives they destroy, or the freedoms they crush. I will not stand by and let the same turmoil that ruined Cybertron envelop your world."

I scratched my chin, thinking, then paused.

"I think there's a way you can get energy _and_ help the city out," I said. "Killing two birds with one stone."

He looked back to me. "What do birds and stones have to do with this?"

"Wait, wha-" I shook my head. "Never mind, it's a turn of phrase. Basically, I remember reading somewhere that a lot of tinkers use hi-tech power sources for their labs, especially the ones that make weapons or vehicles. I'm not sure if it would be a _lot_ , but it might be something."

"It would certainly be worth an attempt."

"Alright then. The Merchants have this tinker named Squealer; I read that she specializes in making big vehicles, like tanks and aircraft. The Merchants are the smallest gang in the bay, too, so it's not like we'd deal with a lot of resistance. Low risk, high reward, as people say."

"Apprehending a gang, and seizing their illicit power sources? Yes, that is a viable strategy," Optimus said. "Very well, we will make our strike two days from now, at night."

I blinked. "You want to do on _Monday_?"

Optimus tilted his head. "Is there an issue with that time? I understand that it is a school night, but the raid will not occupy much of your time-"

"It's not that," I replied. "It's just that my mom might notice me going off with a giant alien robot to take down a supervillain gang."

"If there is an issue, then I can possibly postpone to the next weekend."

I shook my head. "No, I think I can get around it. The sooner we do this, the better, right?"

Optimus nodded. "Indeed."

"Alright then," I said, pulling a notebook out of my backpack. "For a heist, we're gonna need a game plan..."

* * *

 **I**

* * *

The planet's sun was low on the horizon when they finalized a rough plan.

Force was not an issue. Even in his weakened, malnourished state, he was more than a match for any small-scale human weapons. There were a number of parahumans in the city that would pose a challenge for him, or even a threat, but none were in the Merchants. He'd researched them on the web, taking note of their abilities and judging how they could pose a threat.

The chief issue was not a matter of firepower, but discretion; it would not be beneficial if the human populace at large learnt of his existence. Even if he was initially mistaken for a tinker creation, the ensuing investigation from the authorities could possibly result in exposure.

Taylor, Optimus found, was full of insights when it came to solutions to that matter. Her power was multifaceted, with a wide variety of possible uses, and she had several ideas as to how she could use it to prevent exposure. By the time they had finished, her primitive data-storing sheets were completely filled in with notes, diagrams, and maps.

Once they were finished, they began other preparations. He first fashioned a makeshift trailer from the scrap lying nearby, then drove into the city, Taylor riding along. The solar panels were at the various locations he'd specified online for the drop-off, and Taylor loaded them into the trailer.

Once that was completed, he took it upon himself to drive her home. As before, she had him stop a few blocks from her domicile, away from prying eyes. For some reason, she especially did not want to be seen exiting an eighteen-wheeler, when compared to the firetruck he'd been disguised as before.

He made a note to research that stigma, then drove back to the Boat Graveyard.

Night had fallen since he'd left, and he used the cover of darkness to lay out the solar panels. He connected the power cords to himself, and to his crew. When the sun rose, it would power the nanites and rejuvenate them, if only by a small degree.

There was little else to do, at least until they performed the raid. Hopefully, the power sources used by the Merchants would be enough to revive at least one of his crew, but until then, he could only wait.

He found himself staring up into the sky. The stars had shifted drastically over the millions of years, and he studied their positions, trying to track the stellar drift.

Cybertron was up there, he knew, but where? Was the war still raging, that same infernal stalemate that had left countless scars on the outer shell, or had the tide turned for one of the factions? Had the Decepticons taken control, dooming the world to tyranny?

Was it still even there?

He still found himself grappling with that question when morning came, and the first rays of sunlight shone upon the panels.


	4. Chapter 4

Monday afternoon found me staring at the clock, foot tapping impatiently as I watched the second hand tick by. I didn't even know why; it wasn't like I was going to immediately hop into action after class. Yet, I could still feel that anxiety bubbling up inside of me, like a kid who's so excited about a trip to Disneyworld that he can't sleep the night before.

Well, except for the fact that instead of riding Space Mountain, I was going to be riding a giant alien robot into the heart of a gang.

Damn, that sounded wrong.

The bell finally rang, and I practically sprinted out of class. Mom was waiting for me at the curb, and I hopped into the passenger seat with more energy than usual.

"You're looking a bit flushed, honey," Mom said, smiling. "How was school?"

"School was fine," I replied, bouncing my backpack on my knee. "In science class, we dissected a fetal pig."

Mom grimaced. "Blech. I couldn't get through anatomy and physiology; I almost threw up when I made the first incision on a frog."

"I thought it was pretty neat," I said. "Of course, some beefy kid next to me cracked open his pig's jaws open like King Kong, and that wasn't so fun."

"Well, it's still nice to hear you talking about school," Mom said, sparing me a glance as she started driving us home. "Makes me feel better to know you're starting to get animated again."

"How was work?" I asked, trying to divert the conversation from that dead horse of a topic.

"Oh, it was fine. I finished grading my class's homework for the week; we're starting an analysis on Olaf Stapledon's works."

"Is he that guy who wrote Star Maker?"

Mom glanced over, brows raised. "Glad to see that bookishness still runs in the family. How did you come across that book? It's pretty obscure."

I shrugged. "Eh, some kid in my class mentioned him a while back."

"Have you read it? The writing's dry, but the concepts are still pretty nifty."

"I might give it a try."

Mom hummed a little to herself as we pulled into the driveway, then turned to me. "Want me to cook tonight?"

I offered a faint smile. "Sure, that'd be nice."

* * *

 **T**

* * *

Mom was out cold by ten. She was always a heavy sleeper, and she had to wake up early in the morning so she could get to work; it was a good combination for someone trying to be discreet like me.

I made sure I had all my supplies. I put on my spidersilk costume and utility belt, then hid that under some loose-fitting civilian clothes. I kept my mask and gloves in my backpack for my time being, along with some coiled-up rope I'd made from spiderweb.

My bugs were gathering outside; I took advantage of the low light to let them creep over the ground in large numbers. If I was going to make sure Optimus didn't get discovered, and to keep some of the nonpowereds busy, I'd need as many as I could get.

Once I was ready, I carefully crept down the stairs. There was a technique I remembered reading from some urban fantasy story, about keeping your feet to the sides of each step to minimize creaking. It was pretty effective, though I couldn't help but feel awkward as I crab-walked downstairs.

As I paused at the door, I couldn't help but feel a little giddy. I was actually doing this. Not only was I stepping up my game, taking on the bigger fish, but I was doing with a giant robot from another planet. I swear, you couldn't make that stuff up.

I took a deep breath, then opened the door.

* * *

 **I**

* * *

It was dark out when he loaded up the trailer, and drove through the city. The roads were relatively clear, compared to what the humans called "rush hour", but there was still some traffic as he navigated the streets, taking care to avoid the well-lit parts of the city. He'd made a holographic projection in the driver's seat, but he didn't want to test its effectiveness right before a crucial mission.

He pulled into the same spot as before, and waited. Briefly, he considered reviewing the astrological data again, then decided to take stock of his arsenal instead. His main weapon was perhaps good for one low-power shot, but there shouldn't be a need for it. His secondary tools would be enough to handle the Merchants and take their energy sources.

Well, that and his newfound ally.

He was still perplexed by it all. The humans were a small and fragile species, compared to some of the others he'd encountered. And yet, less than thirty of their years ago, they had changed radically in a number of aspects. Somehow, in a way he still could not fathom, a single traumatic event could grant them the ability to control small animals, or to fly under their own power.

There was clearly something suspicious about the whole scenario, but he could not yet discern what could be the cause of it all.

His put aside the thought when he detected somebody approaching. Sure enough, Taylor came around the corner, dressed in her standard human clothing. Her uniform, he noticed, was hidden underneath, if the outlines of armor meant anything.

He could detect insects entering his trailer, creeping in through the cracks. Humans, he understood, had an irrational phobia of them; they would be useful in distracting the Merchants.

Taylor stepped over, and he opened the passenger seat door.

"Get in."

* * *

 **T**

* * *

"So why do you call yourself Optimus Prime?" I asked, trying to stave off some boredom as we made the long drive to the Merchant's turf.

"The same reason you are called Taylor," came Optimus's reply. "Even autonomous robotic organisms require a name to define themselves by."

"Yeah," I admitted, "but that's Latin, and I definitely know you guys don't speak that back on Cybertron."

There was a pause, then I added, "You guys don't speak Latin on Cybertron, right? Please don't tell me it's one of those kooky scenarios where you gave us the language; that'd be like something out of a bad Star Trek episode."

"You are the first human I have ever met," Optimus replied. "Latin is completely different from my language. On Cybertron, we do not use verbal communication, as there is no atmosphere."

"So you guys speak via radio?" I asked. "It makes a lot of sense, now that I think about it. So, you still have _some_ similarities with our languages, right? Like, you have verbs, nouns, and so on."

"Yes. After comparing your languages to my own, I produced a rough translation of my name as to create something that was distinct from humans, and vocally pleasing."

I let out a small laugh. "So, you just basically chose a translation that sounded cool."

"I suppose so."

I leaned my head against window, watching the city roll by. There was a gentle rain coming down, not harsh enough to hamper my bugs as I had them enter the trailer, but it was still beautiful. I always liked watching the city lights through the droplets trickling down the window, back when Dad used to drive me to school.

My fist clenched at the thought.

"I understand that parahumans choose titles in a similar manner," Optimus said, thankfully pulling my thoughts away from that sore spot. "One that is symbolic of your abilities, and 'cool', as you say. Have you chosen one?"

"It's hard to get a good name that doesn't sound villainous when your power is bug-related," I replied. "Swarm Queen or Bugmaster don't scream 'hero', you know?"

"What about Blackarachnia? It is descriptive, and sounds 'cool'."

I shook my head. "Oh, definitely not. That sounds even more villainous than Swarm Queen."

"Hmm. Then perhaps we shall wait for others to assign you a name."

I shrugged. "Probably my best bet."

Suddenly, Optimus put on the brakes, nearly jolting me out of my seat. I turned to look out the windshield, and saw why.

There was a gated compound just up ahead. Feeling out with my bugs, I saw that there were a few men in grimy clothes walking around the warehouse, armed with guns. The interior was just outside my range, but already I could sense a few security cameras at the fences.

This must be the central compound of the Merchants, the proverbial head of the snake. Already I began to cover the cameras with my bugs, having my spiders smear silk over the lenses.

"How do we go about this?" I asked.

"Brace yourself," came the reply.

Optimus burned rubber, and raced forward, faster than a truck ought to be able to. I barely had time to hold on to something before he smashed through the gate, and kept on going. Two of the guards opened fire, but the bullets didn't even scratch the windshield. The guards quickly gave up on that, and decided to high-tail it as Optimus raced forward.

He didn't slow down as he approached the compound. I imagined he had an idea of who was inside, otherwise a lot of people would've been hurt by the next stunt he pulled.

Optimus smashed right through the wall, sheet metal crumpling around the cabin, then skidded to a halt, letting the trailer open up. I couldn't see anything, but I could feel a few people nearby with my bugs, along with what appeared to be some vehicles.

"Now!" he barked.

I let my bugs swarm out of the trailer. I'd mainly collected the more mundane insects, considering that Brockton wasn't exactly a tropical city. Flies, beetles, a few mosquitoes, cockroaches, ants, and so on. However, I'd also managed to get more than a few spiders, bees, and wasps; enough to bring people to their knees. I'd probably managed to gather more than half-ton of bugs.

They latched onto every person in my range, biting and stinging if they could. Those that couldn't, like the flies and beetles, I had fly around, obscuring people's vision with a dark swarm.

I hopped out, and Optimus transformed, his head nearly scraping against the ceiling of the warehouse. I had some of the fliers swarm around him, obscuring his massive form.

The nearest Merchant was ten feet away from me, screaming his lungs out as he was covered in bugs. I had some enter his gun, trying to jam the mechanisms, while also having others bite his fingers, hoping he'd let go. He began to swing around wildly, firing a few shots, and I ducked low to the ground, pulling out my baton and letting it extend.

The gun dropped from his hands when I brought the baton down on his wrist. He didn't try to go for it, instead opting to try and swipe as many bugs off of him as possible. A hit to the temple made him drop, though he was still conscious, if barely.

The others nearby weren't doing so well, either. The ones with heavier weapons, like assault rifles, I sent the spiders and bees after, going for their fingers. A few managed to fire off a few shots, though one immediately dropped to the ground, having a panic attack. He was an arachnophobe, I saw.

Optimus went after the nearest vehicle, some breed between a tank and a boat. He paused for a moment, studying it, then brought a fist down, punching through the hull like cardboard. After a moment of digging around, he pulled out some square box, then set it down, letting my bugs start pushing it towards the trailer. I dedicated the beetles to that task, considering that they were the brawniest of the insects I had.

The Merchants I had on the ground, I started tying up with the spider-web robe I'd made en route, along with the rope in my backpack. I had teams of ants crawl over the prone thugs, looping the silk around them, then had my spiders layer on more web.

"No more spiders," one of them whimpered. "Make the spiders go away."

I ignored him, then jogged after Optimus. He was digging through another one of Squealer's vehicles, pulling out some spheres the size of basketballs. As my range shifted, I suddenly noticed a figure enter the cockpit of a vehicle further down the warehouse.

Crap.

"Squealer's here!" I shouted.

Optimus looked up in time for a missile to race past him, obliterating part of the wall. I put more bugs around him, concealing his form, then had some try and get into Squealer's cockpit. It wasn't getting anywhere; the seal was too tight for my insects to get through, even the ants. I had some sacrifice themselves, hopping into the intake of her helicopter/jet hybrid, but it wasn't quick work.

Another missile caught Optimus right in the chest. The explosion was a small one, but still enough to make me worry as my bugs were obliterated. I let out a gasp as he stumbled, then saw that it'd only cracked the windshields he had for pecs. I had more bugs cover him up, and he charged.

I was so distracted by that, I didn't notice the figure running towards me until I heard his footsteps. Turning around, I managed to back up in time to avoid getting pancaked to the ground by Trainwreck. I'd reflexively gone for his face, but he had on some helmet. His vision was obscured enough that he couldn't see who I was, but evidently he could still make out some outlines.

I ran to the side, having some spiders loop around his legs with silk, then scooped up the rope. I pulled, but it only made him a little off balance as he whirled around, looking for me. I had some spiders try the same trick with his neck, but he pulled those off. A few smaller bugs managed to slip past the helmet, biting and getting into his eyes, and that warranted a grunt of pain from him.

Through my bugs, I could see Optimus swat down Squealer's vehicle with both fists, then rip the cockpit free of the vehicle. Sparks flew as wires and tubing was torn in half, but I could see that Squealer was unhurt, at least for now. He set it down, letting my bugs swarm over the tinker, then ripped out another power core.

Trainwreck was shaking his head, now, trying to get the bugs off. I slipped the ants further down his suit, and was surprised to find that his body under the suit was pretty damn amorphous, more like a blob than a person. He was a Case 53?

Of course, there were more important matters than what Trainwreck really was. Like, for example, the fact that he was bearing down on me again. I stepped to the side, then backed up, putting more distance between him and me. I had to admit, I was pretty intimidated by him, considering that he was a seven-foot-tall hulk of armor, with black smoke rising from stacks on his shoulders.

Thankfully, as tough as he was, I had someone tougher on my side.

Loud footsteps boomed in the warehouse, and Optimus caught Trainwreck in a punt. Optimus hadn't put a lot of force of it, otherwise Trainwreck probably would've been smeared all over the opposite wall, but it was still enough to send the tinker flying like a tin can. Trainwreck hit the wall, chunks of armor flying off, then hit the ground, groaning weakly.

"I have collected the power sources," Optimus said. "Are the Merchants secured?"

"Just about," I replied, as my bugs swarmed over Trainwreck, coating him in silk.

"Good. I have picked up radio chatter; the Protectorate has received reports of our assault."

"Then we need to get going," I said.

I ran over to the trailer, getting the power sources inside and shutting the door. Optimus transformed back into a truck, then secured the trailer onto himself. Once that was done, I began to disperse my bugs, and hopped into the passenger seat.

"We will let the Protectorate bring them into custody," Optimus declared.

"Fine by me," I said.

With that, he backed up into the road, then booked it.

* * *

 **T**

* * *

I was back in my civilian clothes by the time I was at my drop-off spot. The Protectorate had missed us, though I could've sworn I'd heard Armsmaster's motorcyle a street over. It was a bit of a relief, knowing that the Merchants were in custody, even if Skidmark and Mush were still at large. Not like they could do much, now that their two tinkers were heading to jail.

"You have done myself and Cybertron a great service today, Taylor," Optimus said as he rolled to a stop. "You have proven yourself a true ally."

"It's my pleasure," I replied. "I can sleep a bit better tonight, knowing I helped put two scumbags away."

I glanced back at the trailer. "So, you think Squealer's stuff will work?"

"There is only one way to be certain."

I stuffed my gear into my backpack, then hopped out of the passenger seat. "When do you want to team up again?"

"I do not know," Optimus replied. "But I have no doubt we will see each other again. Good night, Taylor. Make sure to rest for school."

That made me snort a little. "Good night, Optimus."

Optimus drove off, and I let out a sigh of satisfaction.

It was a short jog back home. Mom was still asleep, and I took care to put away my gear and uniform before I slipped into bed. I felt exhausted, yet exhilarated at the same time, like somebody who'd just won a race.

Eventually, though, sleep found me, and I dreamt of glittering cities, inhabited by towering metal beings.


	5. Chapter 5

Miss Militia knelt down by the massive footprint in the concrete floor, a frown hiding under her scarf. At least, she believed it was a footprint. It didn't look like any natural footprint, nor did it resemble footwear. If it weren't for the way the depression in the concrete was tilted, she would never have suspected the bathtub-sized rectangle to be left by a foot.

"This makes little sense. Who could leave a footprint like this?"

Armsmaster finished taking photographs of the dent in the wall left by Trainwreck, then turned to her.

"I'd initially suspected Menja or Fenja, but the dimensions don't add up. Not to mention they never left footprints in concrete before."

Miss Militia stood back up, her weapon shifting from a knife to a pistol as she looked around the warehouse. The Merchants inside had already been loaded into the PRT vans and foamed up, with Squealer and Trainwreck among their number. Skidmark and Mush were auspicious absences, but she had a feeling they wouldn't last long without the support of their tinkers or half their men.

She thought to the spider-silk they'd found around all of their wrists and ankles. That must have been the mysterious new bug cape's doing, but that didn't explain why someone who'd only gone after muggers would suddenly take on the Merchants.

And _succeed_ , at that.

She walked over to the wreck of one of Squealer's inventions, watching as PRT officers took photographs and samples. There was a massive hole in the thing's fuselage, like something huge had simply punched through.

"We suspect they took the power source."

Miss Militia turned to see Armsmaster walk over, halberd slung over his back. The tinker was frowning slightly; it seemed that the enigma of the situation was affecting him as well.

"We found similar damage on all the other vehicles as well. No gunpowder residue or plasma burns. Notice how the damage seems almost bent outwards?"

"Yes?"

"It seems like something smashed through, grabbed the power source, then yanked it clean out." Armsmaster allowed a small grin at the corner of his mouth. "Like someone decided to take the batteries out of Squealer's toy cars and planes."

"That seems to be the only thing they took," Miss Militia said. "Did you happen to get anything out of the Merchants we captured?"

"Other from confirmation that the bug cape was responsible? Very little. Most of them couldn't see due to the flies and beetles in their eyes. Some said that a truck created the hole in the wall, but they had nothing else. One _did_ claim that there was the sound of something big moving inside, but that could've simply been their mind playing tricks on them. Eyewitness testimony is notoriously unreliable, after all."

Miss Militia glanced back to the footprints. "I'm inclined to believe something big was moving inside. But a truck?"

"My lie detector didn't indicate otherwise. The men I questioned _did_ see a truck smash through."

"But what about the footprints?"

"We couldn't find any outside." Armsmaster paused. "That would leave some interesting possibilities. Perhaps we're looking at a size-changing Alexandria Package, or even some tinker creation that can disguise itself."

"How many tinkers could make something that big, though?"

"Not many, admittedly. And that would raise the question of where they got the materials and support base for such a creation. That surely would've showed up as a blip on the radar beforehand."

"And unless Dragon suddenly decided to take down the Merchants without alerting us, that still leaves us without good lead."

"Speaking of, I could share the data with her, and see what she produces. She collaborates with tinkers all over the world; if she can find our mystery man, it's her."

Miss Militia rubbed her temple with her free hand, and sighed. "So... we're looking for a mysterious tinker that could take on the Merchants with help from a cape who can control bugs, whose machine may or may not be capable of shapeshifting, and is big enough to leave tub-sized footprints."

"And who non-lethally took down the Merchants and took power cores, but no drugs or money," Armsmaster finished.

"This is going to be a headache, isn't it?"

Armsmaster sighed. "It seems so. Did you happen to speak with the others about the fallout, by any chance?"

"Not yet, but I know it's not going to be good. The ABB and E88 are not going to sit idle when they have an opportunity like this before them. We'll need to report this to the Director before we can do anything else."

"Alright then, let's head out."

Armsmaster turned about and made for his motorcycle, parked near the large hole in the warehouse wall. Miss Militia watched him go, then turned back to the large footprint in the concrete. There were others around the warehouse; many lead to the wrecks of Squealer's machines, but this one in particular had been the first she'd noticed.

Shaking her head, she sighed and made for the PRT truck that had escorted her here. It was a cool night out, and the Moon was visible in the sky, casting its silver light over the city.

As she hopped into the passenger seat, she thought back to the footprint. It was still at the forefront of her mind, nagging at her for a reason she couldn't discern,

She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this whole thing than met the eye.

* * *

 **L**

* * *

" _-the names of the captured Merchants have yet to be revealed, though authorities say that they have managed to identify all of them as of two hours ago, thanks to the resources of the PRT. What this means for the future of the gang has yet to be discerned; police estimate there could be as many as fifty non-powered members left."_

 _"The authorities have announced a search for the ones who conducted the raid, but only time will tell if-"_

Lung turned off the TV, and leaned back into his seat, arm laid over the shoulder of his whore for the day. He couldn't be bothered to remember her name; only that she had the hanzi for fire tattooed in the crook of her neck. Fitting, he supposed.

The three lieutenants across the table from him were all uncomfortable as they turned their gaze away from the television, save for Lee. Good. This was the kind of fear he wanted his underlings to feel; the fear of certainty. He could sense their unease with his uncharacteristic quiet for the past few days, brewing beneath their skin, permeating their sweat.

Under his own skin, there was no unease, only a calculating fury. Poets and romantics alike loved to describe what he felt now as a cold anger, but he knew otherwise. Just as physical heat began to feel like cold when it was extreme enough, so too did his anger feel. It was like white-hot iron in his veins, pushing out nearly every other thought from out of his mind.

Nearly.

He let his lieutenants' fear stew for a few moments longer before he spoke.

"This changes things."

The other two lieutenants were too nervous to speak without prompting, but Lee simply straightened a little.

"What will we do?" the cape asked.

Lung pulled his arm away from his whore, giving her the cue to leave. She awkwardly shuffled past him, stiffening when he gave her a lazy pat on the ass. Once she was out of the restaurant, he sat up, using his height to loom over the men before him.

"My eyes and ears say that the Merchants had been bound with spider-silk." His voice now carried a low growl to it, and he could see one lieutenant quiver a little. "This was the bug girl's doing."

"How could she have-" the other lieutenant asked, only to click his jaw shut and wither under Lung's glare.

"She did not do it alone. She had help."

"Do we know who helped her?" Lee asked, evenly.

"No. But she could not have dismantled Squealer's machines, or fling Trainwreck into a wall. There is someone strong on her side. I will simply have to be stronger."

Lung motioned to the first lieutenant. "You. Gāo. Take twenty men and make for the remaining Merchant territory, before the Empire can seize it for themselves. Strike while Skidmark and his mud-man still reel from their losses. Lee will help you. Should you find Skidmark or the Empire, do not fight them yourself. Call for me, and I will handle them on my own."

Gāo nodded sullenly, then stood up from the table, and left the restaurant. Lee appeared right behind him, ash crumbling into the now-vacant seat. Lung then focused his stare to the remaining lieutenant.

"Shingen, you shall ensure that production is not threatened by the Empire while we move in on the Merchants. Do _not_ fail me."

There was no need to follow up with a threat; actions spoke louder than words, after all. Shingen swallowed dryly, then left the restaurant as well.

Lung leaned back into his seat once more. A young waitress -the owner's daughter, he recalled- came up with a tray of sake. Her eyes did not meet his as she deposited the drink, and she left in a hurry. Lung admired the view as she disappeared behind the kitchen doors, then grabbed his sake. He took a sip of it, and let out a rumbling sigh.

"Enter," he announced loudly.

Bakuda stepped out of the backroom, dressed casually aside from her mask. She plopped down where the others had been, propping her feet on the table.

"Must be important if you didn't want them to see me," she said in a mechanical buzz. "Got a... _special project_ for me?"

Lung leaned forward. "That night, when the bug girl had the audacity to attack me, I had her where I wanted. By my will, she would have died that night. Painfully."

"Clearly, she didn't," Bakuda deadpanned. "Wonder how that happened."

Lung's lips tightened into a sneer as he let the insubordination slide. "A fire truck hit me, then drove off with her in tow."

"Not even gonna comment on the beautiful irony in that."

"It was not a real fire truck, or the news would have mentioned it." When Bakuda tilted her head, he explained, "The bug girl would either be part of the Wards, or there would be news of a firefighter being attacked by bugs as she fled from the truck. There was neither. Therefore, it must have been an ally driving a fake, or some tinker creation."

"New tinker, huh?" Bakuda rubbed her hands together. "Now that should be fun. What do you want me to do?"

Lung allowed himself a feral grin under his mask. "Something that will save face for me, and lure the bug girl and her allies out from the shadows."

"I'm all ears, boss. Lay it on me."

Lung's grin broadened, and he told her his plan.


	6. Chapter 6

Skidmark slammed the duffel bag on the table, and began to hurriedly shove in rolls of dollar coins, hands shaking as he did. Even though cold air was wafting into the room from the refrigeration units, he felt sweat matting his hair, making his mask stick to his skin.

"Fuck," he muttered, a few loose coins clattering to the floor as he shoved in the last of the money. "Fuck fuck fuckity fuck shit!"

He zipped the bag up with trembling fingers, flinching as the sound of a distant explosion reached his ears. He slung the bag over his shoulder and began to run, making a beeline for the exit. His foot caught on a power cord, and and he stumbled into a table they'd been stacking merchandise on. A cloud of white powder billowed up, and he coughed violently, wiping his mouth as he staggered to the door.

He was a few paces away when the door exploded outwards. It slid towards him, only slowing down thanks to the layers he'd set up around the warehouse, and came to a stop just at his feet.

Skidmark took a few steps back, then looked up to see a dragon step inside.

Lung loomed over him, already ten feet tall, scales protruding from his skin and laying themselves down in neat layers. A few flickers of flame darted to and fro about his massive figure as he looked down at Skidmark with hateful eyes.

"Little pig, little pig, let me come in," Lung boomed, a throaty chuckle escaping him.

Skidmark licked his dry lips, and took a step back. His eyes darted to the other door.

"Don't even try it." Lung held up a clawed hand, a gout of flame rising from his palm. "Your Mush made the attempt. You're not as stupid as him."

Skidmark looked back to Lung, then held up the duffel bag with quivering arms. "J-just fucking take it! The money's yours! I'll skip out of town right away. You can keep the merchandise!"

Lung swiped the bag out of the druggie's hands, then burned the cloth away, letting the coins clatter to the floor. Some of them began to melt in his hand, running down his scales in silver and copper rivulets.

" _Pocket change,_ " he snarled, tossing the bag away. "This is not about money. Not today."

Skidmark took another step back, raising his hands. He tried to erect another layer, only for a burning fist to catch him in the gut. He fell on his back, distinctly aware that something inside of him had torn. Copper seemed to pool in the back of his mouth, and he hacked violently, spraying his dirty shirt with blood. Agony enveloped him as he saw Lung step over him.

"P-please," he pleaded in a gurgling whimper. "P-please don't kill me. I kept out of your way, man. I kept my head down!"

"This is not about you," Lung rumbled, kneeling down. "This is about sending a message to somebody else."

Skidmark's eyes widened.

Then, he screamed.

* * *

 **T**

* * *

 _Click._

 _"Another wonderful spring morning in Brockton Bay, ladies and gentlemen! High of 71, with clear skies all throughout the day-_ "

I slapped my hand down on the alarm button, then slowly got up and stretched, feeling more well-rested than I could ever remember being. If I were living in some movie, this would've been the part when sappy music started playing, and birds would fly by my window, singing their little hearts out. As it was, the view of the morning sky from my window was gorgeous.

By the time I finished showering and got dressed, Mom was still groggily drinking her coffee, reading the newspaper in her nightwear. She blinked in surprise as I came down the stairs, and set her coffee down.

"You're up _early_ ," Mom said, managing a faint smile. "Did you sleep well, sweetie?"

"Yep," I replied, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as I went to turn the toaster on. "Slept really well, actually."

"That's good to hear," Mom murmured, sipping her coffee again.

I put the kettle on, and sat down at the table with my toast, reaching for a jar of jelly. It was then that my gaze fell on the newspaper Mom was reading, and the good feeling suddenly ended.

 _SIXTEEN KILLED IN GANG VIOLENCE_ , it read. _THREE FIREFIGHTERS CAUGHT IN BOMBING._

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat, and put the jelly down. "H-hey, can I read the paper?"

" _May_ I," Mom corrected tiredly, speaking in her 'Professor Hebert' voice. Her face softened. "Eh, I don't know why you want to read it, honey. It's just the same depressing news."

"Just curious," I said.

Mom shrugged, and handed me the paper as she got up to put her dishes away. I waited until she was upstairs and taking her shower before I started reading. As I did, and saw the black and white photos of the crime scenes, my appetite swiftly faded away.

By the time Mom came back down and called for me to get ready for school, the good feeling's body was buried in a shallow grave.

* * *

 **T**

* * *

I never appreciated just how big the Boat Graveyard was, until I had to run halfway through it. The whole area was half the size of the city proper, and I constantly had to take detours around the decaying hulls of oil tankers and tugboats alike.

I _did_ appreciate all the running I made myself do every afternoon. By the time I arrived at Optimus's quasi-base, I was only a little out of breath and sweaty; just six months ago, I probably would've collapsed a third of the way through.

Optimus emerged from the makeshift shack he'd housed his crew in, a bunch of wires connected to his back. He took a few ponderous steps towards me, and looked down.

"What is the matter, Taylor?"

"Did you read any of the news last night?" I panted. "About the fighting in the Docks?"

"Yes," Optimus replied, kneeling down to better look me in the eye. "The deaths of the firefighters is tragic, as is the destruction wrought by the fighting."

"It's not just that," I said. "Don't you get it?"

Optimus tilted his head. "Is there something that I am unaware of, in regards to the incident?"

I almost felt like laughing at that moment, at the absurdity of having to explain how gang wars worked to some alien machine older than my entire species. Instead, I just shook my head.

"They're taking advantage of the chaos we made," I said. "When we gutted the Merchants like that, the other gangs went in to pick off the scraps for themselves."

"I have seen power vacuums before," Optimus said, gravely. "We are fortunate that the casualties were limited to the fighters."

I shook my head again. "It wasn't 'just the fighters'. The way those firemen died? How someone _melted_ their truck with them inside? That was probably that Bakuda."

"The so-called 'bomb tinker'. I do not understand why she would attack a fire truck."

"It's about sending a message. Remember what you were disguised as when you hit Lung? They know it probably wasn't a firefighter who saved me and embarrassed him like that, but they know we'd hear the news. It's basically their way of saying 'don't fuck with us, or it'll be you next time'."

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing about on the beach. I felt like I was about to throw up.

"It's our fault," I muttered. "If we hadn't gone after the Merchants-"

"They would still be peddling harmful substances and inciting severe violence in the city," Optimus said. "It would not have changed the actions of Lung and his mad bomber. We cannot be afraid to act, simply because of what the enemy will do. We are not the ones who killed people that night. They are. It was their decision, and we cannot be held accountable for it."

"But the firemen still died," I said, hugging myself.

"Yes," Optimus said, sorrowfully. "They died, but not as a message."

I looked at him. "What do you mean? Why else would they kill them?"

"I have seen this manner of psychological warfare before, during the wars on Cybertron. This is not a warning, but the setting of a trap. They have likely connected us to the attack on the Merchants, and know that you are a moral individual. This is intended to make you feel guilt, so you will attempt to go after them in order to stop any further killings."

To be fair, the guilt part of it _was_ working.

"Then we have to do something about it," I said. "I dunno, lay a trap around their trap. Try and piss them off so they make a mistake."

"That will take time," Optimus said. "My crew has yet to be reawakened, and I am not at full strength yet. I do not know if I could challenge them in this state."

I let out a nervous laugh. "So what? Are we just going to sit around here with our thumbs up our ass, waiting for your batteries to be charged, and all the while Bakuda gets to flambé a few more innocent people?"

Optimus looked at me with his blank blue optics. I glared back, then turned around.

"Taylor-" he began.

"If you're not going to do anything, then I will," I said. "I don't know what, but I'll think of something."

He didn't move to stop me. I started running, and made my way through the Graveyard. I'd need to head back home to fetch my gear and costume, but once Mom went back to bed...

Well, I was probably going to do something _really_ stupid.

* * *

 **I**

* * *

He watched her disappear behind one of the decaying vessels, then turned back to where he had laid his crew down. The power cores and solar panels he had acquired were all linked to them, transferring much-needed energy to their self-repair nanites. In a conservative estimate, it would be less than a week before the first of them exited stasis lock.

He considered them for a moment, his optics falling upon each and everyone of them.

He considered the girl, and those who had died the previous night.

Then, he ripped the cables out, and directed them into his own reserves.

He knew what some of the more brash of his crew would say, if they were awake. Why risk so much for the life of a human? The existence of their entire species was scarcely a blip before the history of Cybertron. Why risk the future of Cyberton for millions of years into the future, for a being who'd be fortunate to live a hundred?

Because it was her short lifespan that made it all the more imperative, he would say to them. He could wait another thousand years if need be, and things would scarcely change. But for the humans, each and every year of their short lives were precious, full of meaning; they had to make each one count. It was beautiful, to see such curious beings live so richly in so short a time.

It would be wrong to shorten them even further, simply so he return home sooner. It was wrong of him to have simply consolidated the energy he had taken, instead of doing more to help the city.

He could feel his reserves quickly swell with the newly-acquired energy. He was not at full strength yet, far from it, but it would be more than enough for what he had to do next. He shifted into the truck, then began defaulting to the previous model. Once finished, he sped off.

Even if it meant staying on this planet for another four million years, Taylor Hebert _shall_ live her short life to the fullest.

* * *

 **T**

* * *

Mom was sound asleep. I could feel her even snoring with my bugs.

I silently crept down the stairs, keeping the bugs on her, in case she stirred. Thankfully, she did not, and I took the bugs off her when I slinked out the back door.

The cool spring air felt refreshing as it rolled over me, and I sucked in a deep sigh. It was a beautiful night to get ripped apart by a flaming dragon man, I supposed.

I tested my baton and pepper spray again, then shoved them back into my utility belt. Cracking my neck, I began to make my way down the street, making sure to keep out of the light. I had my bugs spread out, feeling for anyone who might come across me.

Aside from a solitary man with a cigarette half a block down the line, I didn't encounter anybody as I jogged through the neighborhood.

I still had no idea what I was going to do. Tackling Lung or Bakuda head on would be suicide. I could probably do some reconnaissance, then go and get the Protectorate's attention, but I was still trying to figure out the details of that.

Then I felt a large truck approaching my position. Before I could do anything, it was suddenly to the side of me, rolling down the street at the same speed I was jogging. A door opened up, and my breath caught in recognition.

"Get in," Optimus said.

He probably knew what I was going to do, and was going to talk me out of it. I considered running again, but ultimately I just did as told, the door shutting itself behind me. Once I was buckled, Optimus took off again, moving far faster than any real truck could, and far quieter to boot. Still didn't keep me from nearly hacking up my dinner.

It was then that I realized we weren't heading back home, but further into the city. Once we hit traffic, Optimus slowed down to normal speeds, but still managed to expertly weave his way through the cars clogging the streets.

"Where are we going?" I managed to ask, once I finally quelled my nausea.

For a moment, he didn't say anything. I wondered if he was actually debating himself, or just preoccupied with something.

Then, he finally spoke. Unlike before, where he sounded almost like a god of charisma, he sounded almost like he was going to rip someone's face off.

"Lung."


End file.
